


Their Vigils Keep

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Playing Possum [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo wasn’t quite sure what was more embarrassing: being kidnapped or being kidnapped by a rival crime family. </p><p>Or rescue missions are never simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Vigils Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is a scene I cut out from playing Possum that I decided to turn into it's own fic. It's related, but you don't need to have read the first one to get this one shot. It's more just bonus info. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support! The title of this fic comes from Wayfaring Stranger which is a pretty famous Western folk song. Look it up if you can. It's pretty famous.

Hanzo wasn’t quite sure what was more embarrassing: being kidnapped or being kidnapped by a rival crime family. 

If it had been Talon, it would be one thing. Talon had skill. Talon was a threat, men who could warp minds under their fingers and dabble in tech most did not dare to touch. Being captured by Talon, while still embarrassing, would be capture no one would hold against him but himself.

But this rival crime family. One of the poorest clans operating, who’d gone and taken him in the middle of a recon mission? Now that was just shameful. 

He was losing his touch, Hanzo mused, stuck chained and tied to a chair in a lonesome room. Clearly he would have to log more time at the training room despite McCree’s requests that he “take a goddamn break for one.” If only so he’d never be caught again in such a miserable fashion.

He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. He supposed it could be worse: they could have caught Genji as well. While he didn’t know this clan’s intentions, given the whispers he’d heard in the hallway, he had a feeling they’d been after both Shimada heirs, not just the one. For them to only claim half a prize was somewhat of a victory. He assumed they were deliver him back to the Shimada plan; the reward on his head was hefty after all, even with Overwatch’s attempts to lower it. It would be a good amount to claim for such a small crime family.

Hanzo smirked in the darkness. He would make sure whatever money they might have gained would be offset by their medical bills when he finally got loose of this place. They would have to remove him from this chair eventually. And while they may gain his life when all was said and done, he was determined to take a few of their own with him. 

Dragons did not die easily.

There was noise outside the door and Hanzo looked up. They couldn’t be moving him yet: there was no way they had traveled far enough to do so. Perhaps it was another interrogation, the clan trying to get information out from Overwatch before they turned him over. He almost chuckled; they would have better luck interrogating a wall. 

The door opened. Hanzo braced himself for another guard to come in ready to start an interrogation for information he would never tell. Instead, the door opened to show someone else entirely. Someone in a black outfit with a revolver on his side, the trademark hat left at home and-

“Jesse?”

McCree reached up for his com. “Found em.” He then let out a low whistle, taking sight of his injuries. “I’m sorry for saying this sweetheart, but you look terrible.”

Hanzo supposed he did, with a broken nose and arm, cracked ribs, a split lip and bruised on what felt to be his entire body. He didn’t feel quite so terrible now, McCree a welcome sight. While he’d expected Overwatch to come after him, he hadn’t expected it would be this soon; a fast rescue mission would be a risk for the small organization. He should have known better; his time with Overwatch should have taught them they never put down agents as an acceptable loss. He would have smiled if it wasn’t for the broken nose.

“You smell terrible,” Hanzo said in response. McCree did, Hanzo could smell him from across the room. Hanzo didn’t want to know why. McCree smiled, shutting the door behind them, and placing what looked to be a flashbang near the entryway, he walked over to him. Realizing no one else had arrived with McCree, Hanzo frowned. 

“What are you doing here alone?”  McCree didn’t answer right away, walking behind the chair. Hanzo could hear him start to struggle with the bonds. 

“Rescue mission. You know, typical day at the office.”

“That was not my question.”

“Well,” Hanzo heard the knife slice through the ropes and from the sound of it, McCree was getting out his lockpick for the shackles. He smelled even worse up close. “It’s a large place. Not exactly made for charging at once. Specially when we didn’t know where to find you. So we decided to play this like Blackwatch. Smuggle you out, then have a nice brawl with the assholes who decided to nab you.” There was a dark tone to McCree’s voice in the last sentence. He’d always hated seeing others hurt. 

Hanzo relaxed at that. So this wasn’t a solo mission on McCree’s part then. Good: they would be terribly outnumbered otherwise.

“You didn’t think I’d come by my lonesome, did you? Who do you think I am?”

“A man who once attempted to stop a train heist with no reinforcements.”

There was a pause.

“I told you that was exaggerated.” McCree sounded so put out that Hanzo had to resist the urge to laugh. 

Hanzo heard a click from the lock loosen and relaxed. Rescue. For some reason it hadn’t seemed real until now. He stretched his arms and rubbed his wrists. They were sore, but he supposed it could be worse. He turned to McCree.

“Who came with you?”

“Inside the building? Lena’s somewhere around here playing distraction, and I think Genji will join us soon enough.” Another chain clattered to the ground. “You worried him sick, you know. Vanishing on the mission like that. Came back hollering up a storm.”

“I was taken by surprise.” That he was. His mission was supposed to be recon after all, no direct combat in the slightest. By the time he’d noticed the enemies behind him, they had already cornered him with no place to run, his sniper perch now a trap. He’d barely had time to warn Genji before the shuriken started flying. It had thrown him entirely off guard. Who was to expect a sneak attack? And from an old rival no less, working for his former clan?

_ The heir to the Shimada name, _ his mind supplied in response. Hanzo slumped in his chair. Taken by surprise. What an embarrassment.

“I can hear you stewing, you know. Stop sulking. You got jumped on. It happens.”

“Shimada’s do not get jumped on.”

“Tell that to Genji’s record. I got a handful of stories from Blackwatch that prove otherwise.”

Hanzo wasn’t sure if that information was concerning or a relief. He tried to get up and stumbled, weaker than he thought. Too worn out. McCree walked over next to him and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Woah there. You okay?” He guided Hanzo back to the chair and began to inspect his torso, peeling back the fabric on his shoulder to inspect for wounds. ‘You aren’t hurt bad, are you? I thought they just roughed you up a little but if they did more, I’d like a heads up before you start-”

Hanzo recognized McCree’s tone for what it was; worry. Frantic worry. On their missions they remained mostly professional, it was easier that way, no one wanted an enemy to know about personal connections, but in situations like this, it was hard to keep their personal lives from leaking through. Over the last few months of whatever they had, it had been hard to get used to staying completely calm as bullets flew past one another. Hanzo doubted the last few days had been easy on McCree.

“Jesse,” he said dryly. “If you wish to take my clothes off, I believe it can wait.”

McCree stared at him. Outright gaped. Any embarrassment Hanzo had over using such a terrible line was worth it for that expression. Then McCree snorted. Shook his head, bowing it so it almost touched Hanzo’s own.

“That was terrible,” he said. “Your brother is right. I’m a terrible influence on ya.” He smiled. “I was worried sick, you know. Genji only brought back your bow. I”m sorry. It took us too long to find ya.”

Hanzo was quiet for a moment. There were no cameras in this place, he knew that. There was no chance this moment could be captured. So he reached forward for McCree’s shirt and tugged him forward. A brief kiss.

“You found me. That is what matters.”

McCree outright grinned. Hanzo would never admit it out loud, but he loved that grin. McCree didn’t wear it on his face often enough. McCree helped him to his feet, them leaning on on another and Hanzo allowed himself to relax for a fraction of a second. He was safe. He was rescued. He was fine-

That was when the alarms went off. Loud, terrible, and over the top.

“Shit,” McCree said. Hanzo closed his eyes. Listened. He could hear footsteps far away, a dozen of men at least. A dozen men against one cowboy and an archer with no boy.

“Jesse,” he said. “Did you bring my bow?”   


“Couldn't sneak it in.”

His stomach sank. “And how far away is everyone else?”

“Uh. Cross the building?” 

Hanzo let that sink in. Here he was, finally rescued, about to be caught again. McCree could likely outrun them on his own, he was fast, but with Hanzo? They’d never make it. And while the rival clan would unlikely kill him, he was sure they would not waste a second to cut McCree down to prevent their escape. For them, he would be dead weight.

An image flashed in Hanzo’s mind. Another funeral, another coffin. Too late again. It was not acceptable. If the clan recaptured him, he may still live. But if they captured them both.

Hanzo would not attend Jesse McCree’s funeral again. 

“Leave me.”

McCree didn’t even pause, slinging Hanzo’s arm over his shoulder. Hanzo could hear the guards get closer in the distance, and he tried to pull away. McCree just wrapped his arm around Hanzo’s side.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere,” he took a step forward and they began to walk towards the door. “I’m sorry partner, but I ain’t leaving you behind after all the work it took to get here. I had to crawl in a sewer vent, you know. That sort of effort demands I come back with somethin’ to show for it.”

A sewer. Well that explained the smell. Hanzo stopped struggling, instead hoping his words would convince McCree to use sense. “You cannot free us in time. I will slow you down and they will kill you.”

“I don’t know about that.” McCree’s voice was light and cheery. Like they weren’t escaping from a compound of people out to kill them. “I’m pretty hard to kill, remember?”

Hanzo glared at him. “That is not funny.”

“Never said it was.” They made it to the door, and McCree kicked it open, so he could drag them both through. “I was just makin’ a point.” He removed his arm from Hanzo’s side to tap his com. “I got him. He’s badly beat up, but he’s still trying to be a sacrificial ass, so I think he’s fine.”

Hanzo couldn’t hear the exact words that come over the com in reply, but it sounded like Genji. He reached up for the com in McCree’s ear and pressed the button. “Brother, you must leave me behind. They will not kill me until we reach the clan; you will have time for another rescue. If you let this continue now, we will not-”

McCree rolled his eyes, batting Hanzo’s hand away. He reached for the com again. “See what I have to deal with?” There was a beat of silence as Genji spoke over the com and McCree looked down at Hanzo. “He says you’re an idiot who should stop yacking and let me save your ass.” Hanzo could hear Genji say something else over the com, voice irate. “It was the gist of what you meant, stop complain’.”

Hanzo wondered if this was how he was to die: side by side with a man arguing with his brother about how to relay messages.

“Okay, got it.” McCree hung up on the com and looked to the side. He pulled them into another hallway, picking up the pace, and Hanzo didn’t miss how he pulled out his gun.

“Genji and Tracer are meeting us in five to help get you the hell out of dodge” McCree said. “Should be a bit loud, but I think we’ll be okay.” He turned another corner and looked down at Hanzo. “How you holdin’ up?” Hanzo couldn’t help a wince as they took another step. “Okay, nevermind, good talk.”

They took a few more steps before Hanzo could hear their attackers in the distance. Gaining. He pulled away from McCree, falling to the hallway floor. McCree stopped, looking at him with wide eyes and he held up a hand.

“You will not make it with me.” He pointed down the hallway. “Run.”

“They’re on their way-”

“They won’t make it fast enough-”

“You tellin’ me Tracer ain’t fast enough-

“ _ Jesse _ !”

McCree looked at him for a moment. The use of his first name and that tone had caught him off guard. Hanzo wondered if he was thinking of the last time he used it, the time he thought a ghost had come back to life. Fitting he should use it again to save the man from going back to the grave.

“Run. This is my battle, not yours. This clan will not kill me yet. You will have another chance to save me.”

“You gotta be kidding-” McCree’s voice was a hiss. “We might not be able to find you again Hanzo!”

“You will. Run. Genji and Tracer may get here in time to assist me.”

“And if they don’t?” A hint of anger.

“Then we do not need to have another funeral for you.” And there it was. Hanzo knew what he could take in this world; he’d lived long enough to know the burdens he could carry. He’d lived long enough to know what would break him as well. The sight of his father, the clan asking him to do the unthinkable. Genji’s body in the town square, dead by his own hands.

The serape of a dead man falling to the floor.

McCree looked at him for a long moment. Turned away. For a second, Hanzo thought he might have gotten through to him, that he might take his advice. At least until McCree lowered his hat and lifted his revolver, waiting for anyone to turn the corner.

“I’m sorry Hanzo,” he said, a smirk on his lips. “But I think I’ve been to enough funerals for a lifetime. Ain’t going to yours if I can help it.”

Hanzo wished he had his bow, wished he had anything to stop the scene in front of him. McCree, standing between him and a pointless death. Peacekeeper, aimed towards the end of the hallway. His stupid heart, too loud in his own ears. The sound of their pursuers turning the corner.

Not like this. Not like this.

“Cheers boys!” Hanzo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as a blue blur ran past him, chipper as always. “The cavalry is here!”

It was to the sound of gunfire, the rumble of the building collapsing above them from an explosion, and the rescue party that he thought would never arrive, that Hanzo passed out.

* * *

 

After being rescued, after talking to Angela and falling back asleep, Hanzo woke to McCree at his side.

The cowboy smiled at him, expression soft. It was dark out, the small window told him that much, and Hanzo relaxed in the hospital bed, feeling worn to the bone. He took in the serape rested on top of his hospital sheets, the familiar red there, and smiled.

It took him a second longer to notice the cowboy hat McCree had put on his head. 

“Really,” he said, voice a whisper. McCree just reached forward to pluck it off his head.

“It suits you, you know. And you didn’t complain when I put it on.”

That he didn’t. The hat had been somewhat of a comfort, as much as he loathed to admit it. A reminder that he’d been rescued after all. He closed his eyes, sinking lower into the pillows, and let out a low hum.

“You in pain?”

“A little.” There was no point in lying. He felt sore, not enough to make sleeping impossible, but enough to notice significant discomfort. 

“Want me to call Angela?”

He shook his head again. Hanzo heard McCree shuffle in his seat, ansty, and he waited for him to speak up. He had something on his mind. He always did when he couldn’t sit still.

“Hey Hanzo?”

“Yes?”

“You know I’d never leave you behind, right? That you’re worth not leaving behind.”

Ah. So that was what this was about. Hanzo opened one eye and let out a deep breath. 

“Jesse-”

“I mean it.” McCree was pointing at him a scowl on his face. “I mean it, I really do. And you gotta understand. I don’t care if we could have tracked you down again. I don’t care you might have been okay. Leaving you behind wasn’t an option. It ain’t ever an option.” He lifted his chin. “Please tell me you understand that.”

And he did. He did, though he hated to admit it. Because if the situation was reversed, if it had been himself between McCree and Deadlock, he knew would his reaction would have been. And it wouldn’t have been to run.

“I understand.”

“You ain’t just saying that.”

Hanzo opened both eyes this time. Reached forward for McCree’s hand even though everything hurt. The other man’s hand was cold.

“I am not.”

McCree was silent for a long moment. Hanzo felt himself drifting again, lulled off to sleep by the hum of machines and the quiet of the room. His eyes closed. After a few moments on the edge of sleep, he heard a small hum in the air, a few words sung in the darkness shortly after. A song he had not heard before with a voice he knew by heart.

“Jesse-”

“Shit.” The singing stopped. “I thought you were asleep. Look-”

“What song is that?”

“Excuse me?” 

“The song?”

A long pause. “Wayfaring Stranger. It’s an oldie.”

“It’s nice.”

“Yeah?” Another pause. “Wanna hear some more?” 

Hanzo let out a low hum. The singing continued, soft and pleasant, the melody carrying him to sleep.

McCree’s hand was still in his the next morning. 

  
  
  



End file.
